


Heather: Lams Style

by mummege



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Depressing, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mummege/pseuds/mummege
Summary: *wheeze* this is my FIRST ao3 post save me.Based off of a depressing song, Heather.John accidentally let's it slip that he's sad that Alex would never kiss him.There is a dnd joke in here. Kmn
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Heather: Lams Style

"Why would you ever kiss me?"

"...what?" 

John sighs,"I said, why would you ever kiss me? I'm not," he swallows thickly,"I'm not even half as pretty."

"I don't," Alex stutters. He's having trouble comprehending.

"Whatever,"

"No, wait. I… uh.. I'm confused," 

"You would be, Alex. High intelligence, low wisdom,"

Alex draws himself up,"I am too wise,"

"Uh-huhhhh," John internally facepalms. He can't believe he just spouted out something  _ emotional. _ What a mess.

"Explain then,  _ Mr. Wisdom _ ," the Puerto Rican enunciates saltily. 

"No,"

Alex glares,"Spill."

"It's stupid," John insists. 

"It can't be stupid if I don't understand it."

"You fucking asshole." the freckled man complains. 

"Hardly,"

"Low wiSDOM," John repeats. 

"Christ," Alex huffs, "the hell is up?"

It's John's turn to huff. He turns his head and exhales harshly. The bean bags they sit on are squashed from overuse. Lafeyette and Hercules have left the 'party' which was really just an excuse to get drunk together. 

Alex looks at John. He  _ really _ looks this time. He notices nothing unusual. John notices this mannerism and sighs when he doesn't notice  _ anything _ odd. 

"I said nothing," he's pissed off and Alex can tell. 

"Then why'd you say I'd never kiss you?"

The fluffy haired man stiffens and sputters. His face burns and Alex finally sees  _ that _ . How come he never realized the lack of pallor from John. But only when he's near…

Alex puts the pieces together. Slowly. John watches in pained silence. It seems like hours pass. 

"Erhm,"

"You… like me…?" Confusion and uncertainty blot the Puerto Rican's face.

"No, you fucking dumbass. I love you," John inhales and doesn't exhale until Alex answers. 

"Huh,"

John huffs,"Wow very climactic."

"What did you expect?" Alex mutters, "Some big makeout scene?"

"I don't know. Something more climactic for  _ sure. _ " John twiddles his thumbs, "I thought you'd hate me."

"High wisdom, low intelligence," Alexander giggles.  _ Giggles _ . He actually giggles. At such a monumentos time.

"I think I'm just gonna go,"

"Why?"

John deadpans,"Are you  _ actually _ saying that. I just told you I loved you. You're my best friend  _ and like in love with Eliza _ ,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah,"

John struggles with his beanbag for a moment. The crushed foam does not provide a sufficient launch pad. He sighs and relents for a moment. Jerking, he remembers Alex and begins the struggle again. 

"Not really,"

The fluffy haired man pauses,"What?"

"I just," Alex gulps,"I kinda went after her cuz if I dated… who I wanted..." he trails off. 

"Alex..?"

"It would be hard… and, well..."

"Is the famous Alexander Hamilton wordless?" John scoffed. 

"N-No!"

"So are you like, bi or something?"

It's Alex's turn to sputter. "No!"

"Okay, I'm going then,"

Alexander is seeing himself throw away his shot. John huffs himself up and grabs his jacket from the back of a chair. He turns to put it on but before he can Alex throws his sweater as John. 

“Wear it,”

“What…?”

Alex swallows for the first time in what seems like hours,”I said wear it.”

“Wait…” John stares at the sweater in his hands. “A-are you…?”

“I-I don’t know, John,” Alex is muttering while staring intently at the floor. The hardwood is newly put in so it still retains its glossines. “I don’t know what I’m doing…” 

There is a moment of silence while John looks at the sweater like it might eat him. It smells faintly of Eliza’s perfume. It’s what would be a boring creme colour, but there just gently is Alexander’s cologne. It’s gently overpowering the slight perfume scent, this makes the sweater’s colour much more appealing for some reason. The fluffy haired man shakes his head. He needs to leave this house  _ now. _

“I’m going, I have to. I-” John doesn't finish. He can’t find the right words to say the things that float around his head. Turning he goes to toss the sweater on the couch. Alex doesn’t stop him. All Johnt hears as he rushes out of the house is a devastated sigh. 

Alex sits on his beanbag in a daze. He can’t really comprehend what he did. What happened. How did he do that? Why did he do that? The Puerto Rican internally shudders. Still in a daze he texts Eliza and stumbles into his bedroom, throwing his phone somewhere away from him.

John is in his car. His face is buried in his hands and he barely remembers what just happened. Without realizing it John begins to sob. Eyes are spilling hot tears and he can’t seem to remember why. Not fully. Something to do with Alex and… and that awful sweater. It smelled nice, but there was something else there. A horribly sweet and devastating scent hidden under the pleasantness. 

A proper summary to how John felt it seemed. He was okay but there was something writhing against a wall. A sudden wall he doesn't remember putting up. It’s a morose memory he wants to see, but knows he shouldn’t look. John doesn't get time to decide. The impromptu wall is torn down violently as the memory crashes down once more. It replays over and over again. That damned sweater. It doesn’t belong on his shoulders. It doesn’t belong anywhere near him. That’s all John can think. 

The tears begin to flow in earnest. Alex is curled into a ball trying not to scream at himself. He wants to sleep but he knows it won't come. John is sobbing and hunched against his steering wheel. He barely remembers to not hit the horn. Tears are soaking pillows and pleather alike.

Alex barely notices when his phone’s screen lights up with a text notification. His phone is face up on the carpet. He hiccups at the text notification. It could be John. John. John. John. Alex doesn’t remember sliding off the bed, but somehow he ended up on the floor. He grabs at his phone, unlocks it, and opens the text app.

His heart falls to the floor as he sees the text is from Eliza. Alex anxiously re-reads his previous text along with Eliza’s text. 

**Alex:** _ I can’t do this. I’m sorry, we need to break up.  _

**Eliza:** _ Alex? What? _

**Eliza:** _ Fine. Whatever.  _

Alex cries out. He can’t. Everything is crashing down. He shakily gets up, not bothering to grab his phone. Stumbling, he makes it to his medicine cabinet, opens it up, and pulls out a bottle of Melatonin. A shake is heard around the kitchen as he pours a few tablets into his hand. Alex chews them without thinking. He didn’t count. He doesn’t care. He just wants to sleep.

John revs his car’s engine. His tears are trying to dry on his cheeks, but fresh liquid seeps through already damp tear ducts. The gas pedal is pressed far too hard and sadness swirls into a hurricane of anger and regret. 

There is a soft noise in Alex’s house. It’s him falling onto the couch. He doesn’t hear an engine rev or tires squeak. There's nothing in the two men’s minds except pure feeling. Emotions aren’t forced into confining word boxes. On Alex’s end there is lingering sadness being quickly overpowered by Melatonin. On John’s end there is regret and sadness. It is being stirred in a way that provokes unadulterated rage. 

John can't remember getting home. 

Alex can’t remember going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> AAHAGSGAZGDHSKAKSNDHJAKANZ
> 
> WHAT AM I DOING
> 
> I wrote half of this and then like a week later wrote the other half
> 
> EDITING?! WHATS THAT
> 
> sorry I'm a little bit crazy. 
> 
> K bye


End file.
